Argyle
by Summerlea
Summary: Axel had always been too impatient to make a good housewife. [saxel. AU]


**A/N:  
**Written for my Commo.  
If you want to see the fantastic fucking picture she did that made me write this, it's on my USER PROFILE.

* * *

It's ten thirty when Saix Rose's cellphone began to go off. What was usually a cheerful little tune was currently silenced and replaced with a vibration, making the fancy phone hum across his thick mahogany desk.  
Almost boredly, Saix's amber eyes slid away from the thick stack of papers that he was in the middle of going over, to the dancing cellphone. **'HOME'** was printed in thick letters on the cellphone's tiny little screen.  
Saix pursed his lips, and nudged his thin, black rimmed glasses up his nose. The third call today alone, and he couldn't help but feel vaguely annoyed because Axel _knew_ he was at work. 

Saix set the paper down right in the center of his organized desk - right between two other piles of different sizes - and lifted a hand to rub the bridge of his nose tiredly. The phone vibrated once more, jittering a few inches along the desk, and fell silent for a few seconds before a soft beep went off - signaling that he had one new voice message.

He didn't pick it up to listen to it - just like he hadn't stopped to listen to the other two messages - because he was working and Saix was too dedicated to his job to fuck around while he was on the clock.  
Saix picked up the papers again after a moment of watching his phone, pushed his glasses up further and grabbed his red pen. He had read half a paragraph when the phone beeped again.

He narrowed his eyes, looking at it for a long moment before setting down the papers and snatching it up. A text message. Fighting the urge to be a good worker and maybe put his phone in his desk where it wouldn't distract him, he flipped the phone open and opened the message - which read in bad un-capitalized letters, "I miss you come home?" There was a sad face next to the words.

Saix rubbed his temple, shutting the phone and setting it down once more and glared at his papers. He glanced down to the wrist-watch strapped around his left wrist, and wondered if he could take lunch early.

--

"I can't just leave," Saix murmured into the receiving part of his cellphone, pausing to take a drag off of his cigarette while, on the other end of the line, his wife groaned in disappointment. "I'll see if I can leave a little earlier, maybe around two, though." He paused, licking his lips. "That's not a promise, though."

There's a laugh on the other end of the line. "_You never promise me anything._"  
The comment isn't mean - it's playful and just like his spouse, so Saix merely grunted in reply and took another drag of his cigarette.

"_You know,_" His wife started to say and Saix already knew the lecture he was about to be graced with. "_Smoking kills."_

--

Walking up the winding sidewalk to the front door of his house, Saix glanced down to his wrist-watch again. It was almost three, and while he still managed to get out of the office earlier than he normally did, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for saying two o'clock on the phone earlier.  
When he stepped through the front door, he was hit with the rich scent of patchouli and cinnamon - not strange because they were his wife's favorite smells, although they didn't always mix the best together. Saix nudged the door shut behind himself, listening for any sounds of anyone being home, and was in the middle of setting his brief-case down when Roland began to bark from somewhere upstairs.

The sharp, high pitched barking grew closer, no doubt as the dog made it's way out of their bedroom - and in a few moments the little cardigan corgi was thumping noisily down the staircase. The dog came to a noisy halt at Saix's shoes, and then insisted on sniffing his pant leg and chewing on it as soon as Saix took a step forward to get away from the front door.  
He frowned, shaking his foot to get the dog away and then suddenly noticed that his dog was wearing an argyle doggy sweater. "What - the - fuck," Saix breathed, leaning down to pluck at the material. The dog 'wuff'ed happily at the attention and tried in vain to spread kisses all over Saix's face.

"Axel," Saix called, suddenly straightening up after deciding to leave the sweater the hell alone. "Why is Roland in a sweater?"

For a moment, there was only silence and then a bright red head peeked around the corner of the open doorway that led into the lounge. Bright green eyes regarded him a moment before Axel stepped out into the corridor, one hand holding a small glass that looked like whiskey on the rocks, while his other hand absently smoothed down the material of his green dress shirt.  
Axel glanced from his husband - who was still wearing his suit and apparently had just gotten home - to the chubby little dog wagging it's tail by said husband's feet. He took a drink, and tried to look as innocent as physically possible. "What? Is he allergic to them?"

Saix lifted his eyebrows, surveying Axel's outfit with a blank expression. A green button up dress shirt, a pair of too tight black jeans and … a white apron, to wrap the whole look up. "What?" He replied thickly, because being in an office all day always numbed his mind for Axel's wit. "-No, he's not. - What are _you_ wearing?"

Axel looked down at himself, frowning. "I was baking cookies," He muttered lamely in his defense and padded down the hard-wood hallway and ducked into another room.

Saix snorted, taking a moment to pull his suit jacket off and hang it on the coat rack next to the door, and then leaned down and ripped the stupid sweater off of his prized purebred dog. He scratched the dog behind his ears, let him briefly lick his hands, and followed Axel into the kitchen with Roland trotting loyally at his heels.

As he rounded into the kitchen, the scent of peanut butter cookies snuck their way into his senses, and he was momentarily surprised that nothing was burning. While Axel was, all in all, quite a good house-wife he did have a problem with burning food.  
Saix managed no more than three steps into the fancy, high-tec kitchen when Axel slipped his arms around his neck and stole a kiss from him while he was busy being surprised.

Axel's fingers slid down and latched onto his navy blue tie and began to sneakily loosen it while he took a few steps back, and successfully dragged Saix by his tie with him. He stopped when he was back against a counter, and once he'd gotten the tie loosened enough, un-did the first two buttons of his husband's shirt and began to press kisses along Saix's collar.  
Saix, naturally, slipped his hands around his skinnier wife and pressed him back into the counter, going along with the whole thing even though he'd just gotten off of work and was admittedly quite too tired for such things. After a moment of letting Axel bite and suck on his neck, he tilted his head away and gave the before-mentioned wife an amused, but stern look. "What are you doing?"

Axel's lower lip dropped into a pout and he continued to play with Saix's tie. "Can we fuck, please?" He asked, in his best submissive, cute voice and looked up at Saix with big, green eyes.

Saix eyed him, contemplating the whole thing before he snorted and pressed a kiss to Axel's cheek. "No," He said bluntly, a smirk crawling up his lips.

Axel immediately pouted further more, attempting to get away with un-doing a few more of the buttons on his husband's shirt. "I've missed you! I've been so bored all day, C'mon," He complained, slipping his knee in between Saix's and rubbed his crotch teasingly.

Saix merely laughed and backed away. "So get a fucking job," He suggested dryly, batting the knee away. Axel scoffed immediately, and - to give him credit - did not look quite as revolted with the idea as he probably actually was. He slipped under Saix's arm and picked up his abandoned whiskey. "Fuck that shit," He declared, and took a long drink.

The bluenette's smirk stayed in place and he glanced down to Roland, who was now sitting faithfully a few feet away and had cocked his head to listen to the two of them. "Don't dress my dog up."

"Tch - Roland _likes_ it."

* * *

Reviews? insert hopeful face here


End file.
